


To Kill a City

by Skylar_Matthews



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Completely happy, Fluff, Humor, Only the summary doesn't lie, just kidding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2015-01-21
Packaged: 2018-03-07 23:38:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3187538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skylar_Matthews/pseuds/Skylar_Matthews
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cybertron's cities are only offline when their entire populace is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Initial Discovery

It was Perceptor who found him.

The scientist had been stopping by Prowl's office with some inventory reports at the time. There was no response when he pinged the door to open but it did slide away and so he entered. It wasn't too unusual that the tactician didn't acknowledge the door request as he was often otherwise mentally engaged; a habit Perceptor could easily understand. The door would have been locked and remained shut if anything of importance were happening within so he had no qualms about entering into the silence.

That's when he found him.

Prowl was seated at his desk, slumped over it as though he'd fallen into recharge right there. Another habit Perceptor occasionally indulged in when he was working on a difficult or intriguing project. However, he usually found a more comfortable position. One arm was draped across the desk alongside Prowl's helm but not touching and the other he would guess was beneath the desk. Even he could tell the other's sensor wings would be sore from the exceedingly low angle they were set at presently as well.

It took a bit of creativity to locate a safe place to set his reports so he could leave. It was rare Prowl wasn't in his office to receive such things, but on those occasions he wasn't present his preferred procedure was that the documents be left somewhere visible and secure. Typically that was as easy as leaving them on the mech's desk. Unfortunately for Perceptor, today was not so simple. He had to maneuver along one side of Prowl's desk, through a small puddle of Energon and shift a small pile of datapads in order to place his two in the now empty space. There was more Energon on the bottommost datapads in the pile and Perceptor couldn't help wondering just how such a thorough mech as Prowl was would manage to knock over a cube of Energon by falling asleep at his desk.

It really wasn't any of his concern however, and so Perceptor set down his reports then pulled a cleaning cloth from his subspace as he turned to leave. It was easier to clean now than to wait. Except it wasn't. Consumable Energon was more energy than matter and behaved incredibly like a liquid for all that it was not one. (The true classification of Energon would be as a plasma.) Processed Energon, the sort that ran in Cybertronian frames, was much the same but gathered a stickiness after traveling through one's lines.

Perceptor froze before the door. The Energon he was trying to wipe from his digits was sticky.

Turning back, he reexamined the scene as he slowly made his way across the room once more. Nothing was obviously out of place, other than the tactician spread on top of his desk, but a proper investigation would have to be performed later to determine if anything was actually missing. 

The scientist then, upon reaching Prowl's desk, slowly rounded it. The very first thing visible was the pool of Energon on the floor and he realized that bit he'd stepped in must have come from this vast quantity as it slowly seeped out from beneath the desk. A visual sweep of the area revealed only a single blade, Energon coating one side. It was also under the desk. His focus next turned to the other mech himself. There were signs of graying already present, primarily in the tips of his wings but also in the very ends of his digits.

Perceptor couldn't help shuddering as he commed for medical. This tragedy did not bode well for the Autobots.


	2. The Spy Learns

Jazz couldn't shake off the doom and gloom sensations as he returned to the Iacon base. They'd only managed to locate one survivor in the entire city, and he'd been in real bad condition at that. Thus Jazz had remained longer than he was assigned to but he'd wanted to make sure the kid was stable so he had a little bit of good news for Prowl. And kid he was, as the mech could only have been in a youngling frame. Far too young to have to know such a tragedy. He certainly didn't envy the medic or whoever had to try and explain to the youngling that everyone and everything he'd ever known was now gone.

Forcing that line of thought to a secondary track in his processor, the saboteur slipped into his outwardly ever cheerful mode as he neared the base's entrance. Things where he'd just returned from were worse than anyone could have predicted, but that was all the more reason to act his part. It would only serve to wreck morale if all of the command staff were to withdraw. Plus, upping crew morale usually gave him an alternative to focus on in the hopes of distracting himself from his own problems. Not that he'd be doing much of that right away; he did have to report in first thing.

He was through the security check in as quick a time possible and headed into the base before he got the message. Usually post-mission he'd stop by Prowl's office for a debriefing because he hated writing reports and the other was willing to accommodate. In this case, that was saving the verbal report and downloading it onto a datapad in an appropriate format. That 'pad was then given back to Jazz to review and modify as necessary until they both agreed on the wording. It was still a process, and annoying as the Pit, but not as bad as having to write up the reports himself. That Prowl didn't seem to mind, even after repeated attempts asking, gave him full permission to indulge in the slight convenience. Sure, it had been the tactician's own suggestion, but that didn't always mean he actually liked the idea.

Jazz was just caught up enough in planning how to explain the situation he'd just left that he was halfway out the door of the security check before noticing one of the mechs on duty was trying to get his attention. Reluctantly, though he didn't show it, the spy replied. The answer he received only served to pull his faceplates into a frown as all his worries and concerns skyrocketed again.

_"Chief Medical Officer Ratchet wants to see you in the Medbay immediately, sir. Especially if you're planning to stop by the Second in Command's office."_

So now his destination was naturally the Medbay, to find the head medic. He could read between the lines and something like that meant definite trouble. It was likely Prowl had skipped fueling or recharge to work more. He often did both and Jazz certainly wouldn't blame him for wanting a distraction from this tragedy. Even though it would up to the saboteur now to get him out of that self-inflicted state.

Jazz couldn't help mentally cursing himself as the Medbay doors opened. He knew Prowl's habits, but had allowed himself to forget while away and now his fellow officer might even need medical treatment. All because of his own impulsive choice to remain behind longer than expected. Not that this would stop him from doing similar in the future, but he might at least give some thought to the next few he could make.

Finding Ratchet was easy. The medic noticed him even before the door slid shut.

"I suppose you'll want to see him."

Jazz just nodded, unsure of how else to respond, and then followed Ratchet to one of the back rooms. The area reserved for long term or complicated patients. Jazz could feel his spark constricting as they stopped in front of one of the doors. Whatever was beyond that door was not going to be a pretty sight.

Ratchet keyed open the door and stepped aside so Jazz could enter first. When he did, his suspicions were confirmed by how little he could see. Prowl was laid out on the medberth with a heating blanket covering most of his frame. Such things were only used when a bot couldn't regulate their own internal temperature; a serious though rarely deadly condition. However, the small portion of the tactician's neck that was visible was off color and even where wasn't bore new weld marks.

"He nearly offlined," Ratchet explained, finally breaking the silence as Jazz made to lift the top of the blanket. The spy hadn't noticed the medic sneak up behind him, but he also hadn't noticed himself crossing the room. All that mattered was seeing for himself that Prowl was still functional. He found further welds and more new plating down most of the tactician's chest plating but nowhere lower.

"What happened?" Jazz heard himself asking.

And Ratchet told him.


End file.
